Surviving a storm

Finally back home again, not from hell but somewhere close to it. Another night of listening to self-indulgent ramblings and moronic discussions about nothing at all. How can such rich people be so desperately uninteresting?

Mother talks for me, apparently my nodding and fake smiles don't do it for her. "Avy wants to study", she says, glancing at the Tom Clancy novels on the bookshelves. "She's considering law, such an ambitious girl". It's a lie, I nod again but no one bothers to ask any questions. They don't care.

I come to think of Carl, he would have fought this war for me with his subtle sarcasms. After three glasses of wine I call him from a dark room in the attic. He calms me down with his warm voice, asking me about tonight's outfit and how I wear my hair. "I think we'll be leaving soon" I say just as mother comes to tell me we're spending the night, me in the son's room of course.

I consider sleeping in my YSL dress but decide not to wrinkle it. "You can borrow something from me" he says, so I end up in my panties and an Abercrombie & Fitch T-shirt. It's the ultimate embarrassment and I dream about snow storms.